


Yesterday

by weallfalldowneventually



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, We Die Like Men, but mostly sad, i honestly made myself sad writing this, i love some angst, it's kinda cute, so fair warning!!, take that as you will, the title is from the beatles song yesterday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weallfalldowneventually/pseuds/weallfalldowneventually
Summary: Ethan laughs, a fond little sound tumbling out of his mouth, "I'm going to be living here come tomorrow, you don't want one last night to yourself in your house?"
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 35
Kudos: 127





	Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> tw: dreams, death, lucid dreaming?? uh, nothing too graphic just mostly sad.
> 
> i wrote this to the cover that boyz II men did of the beatles yesterday. i highly recommend listening to the boyz II men cover while reading. i made myself sad, hopefully the song will add to the experience!

Ethan curls further into him, fingers gripping onto the cloak hoodie he's been sporting all day. He let's his fingers gently scrape against Ethan's scalp, soothing him, trying to lull the boy into a peaceful slumber. It's a rainy day in Los Angeles, something they don't see too often these days. There's a pleasant chill in the air, it's easily fought off by their shared warmth and the blanket they have draped delicately across themselves. A small, perturbed sigh breaks the relaxing pitter patter of rain hitting against the bedroom window. He feels the grip against his hoodie soften, fingers unwinding from the soft material. Ethan begins to rise, trying to extract himself from Mark's grip, which, he is having none of. He tightens the grip around Ethan's waist, halting anymore upward movement the boy was surely trying for. 

"Where you trying to run off too, baby?" He questions, voice gentle in tone as he strokes his thumb against the others side. He's blessed with a toothy smile, heart skipping the slightest of beats at the sight.

"I'm gonna go finish packing," the fingers that once gripped his hoodie now splayed against his chest, pushing playfully against his hold. "Then, I'm gonna spend one final night hogging all of my _own_ blankets, before I spend the rest of my life fighting you for them." 

Mark frowns, nose scrunching up in distaste, "First of all, there's no need to fight me for any blankets," he waggles his eyebrows playfully, "You know I always have a place for you under me," this earns him several reactions, a blush, a snort, and a playful smack to his forearm. He takes it all in stride, and powers on, ignoring the twist in his stomach at the sight of his loves blush. "Secondly," he all but whines, he has absolutely no shame, "just stay the night, I'll help you finish packing tomorrow, and then we can lug the rest of it over afterwards." 

Ethan laughs, a fond little sound tumbling out of his mouth, "I'm going to be living here come tomorrow, you don't want one last night to yourself in your house?"

Mark full on pouts, he adds a dejected little grumble to the timber of his voice, "No, I want to spend the night with you, in _our_ house, in _our_ room, and in _our_ bed." 

Ethan, being the squirmy little shit he is, manages to worm his way out of Mark's death grip, sitting up, he hovers over Mark's resting form, hazel eyes warm as they gaze down on him. "I'll be home tomorrow, plus, I gotta go see my baby boy Spencer!" A sudden energy seems to overtake him, the calm of the room all but washing away, replaced with an all to eager energy to see his little boy. "Kathryn is expecting me back before 9 anyways, I can't be that dick that just texts last minute, asking her to stay the night and watch my dog for me."

Mark, squints, fingers reaching out to curl around Ethan's hip, "I can be that dick for you," he trails off, a sigh on the tip of his tongue, he knows full well he couldn't do that to Kathryn either, but, oh, is the temptation strong. He wants nothing more than to pull Ethan back down, to keep him here, warm and safe in _their home._

When he looks back up, the soft look Ethan is giving him steals his breath away. His heart trips and stumbles, tumbling all the way down to his stomach. He watches the way Ethan leans down before his eyes flutter closed, he feels his slightly chapped lips press to the corner of his mouth. The tips of his fingers pressing gently against his stubbled jaw. Then his weight is off of the bed, jarring him back to the present. He whines, opening his eyes and watching Ethan stand and stretch. Ethan turns, raising a brow mid stretch, arms high above his head. A sliver of skin shows, making Mark instinctively reach out, making grabby hands at him.

"No, you come back here mister, and you give me a proper kiss or so help me-" he doesn't get to finish, a kiss cutting him off mid sentence. It's messy and not really a kiss, Ethan's lips stretched too tightly in a smile to be anything too spectacular.

It's perfect. 

Mark hums, his own smile soon saying hello. Ethan pulls back, all too soon, before he places a quick kiss to his cheek before sprinting off, shouting a cheerful, _see you tomorrow,_ before he's out of the bedroom door and descending down the stairs haphazardly.

He let's a satisfied smile find refuge on his lips. The scent and left over warmth of Ethan lulling him into a peaceful sleep. 

He comes too, a few hours later, phone ringing obnoxiously from his nightstand. His eyes, bleary with sleep, finding it hard to read the caller ID on his bright screen. He groans, rolling on to his back once more as he answers. 

"Hello," he mumbles out, voice still heavily laced with sleep. 

"Is Ethan still with you?" Kathryn's voice carries over the phone, worry evident in her voice. Mark's sitting upright in a matter of seconds, heart kicking up the pace in his chest.

"No," he brings the phone from his ear to glance at the time, "he left a few hours ago," a sense of dread washes over him, ice cold and more chilling then the wind outside could ever be. "He's not back with you?"

He hears Kathryn take a deep breath, his heart aching painfully in his chest, when Kathryn's worried, the situations never good, "No, no, he's still not back. He's not answering either when I call him." She lets out a quiet exhale of breath, "I was- I was just hoping he was still with you." 

Mark feels himself breakout into a cold sweat, beads of it rolling down the back of his neck, "I- I'm gonna try calling him." He hears Kathryn's shaky breath over the line.

"Alright, just, if he answers call me back, let me know he's okay. If he answers for you and not for me, I'll personally kick his ass." She tries to joke, but it falls flat, tone too saturated with anxiety to nail down the humor. 

"Of course," is his numb response, voice losing any previous life it once held. He ends the call, fingers shaking as they look for Ethan's name in his phone, he clicks it, pressing the phone to his ear. After a few obligatory rings the phone goes to voicemail, Ethan's sweet, energetic voice popping up, "Sorry I missed your call, leave a message and I'll get back to you!" 

His heart plummets, voice wavering when he goes to speak, "Hey baby, call me when you get a chance. You got me and Kat worried. I- I love you so much, just let me know you're alright." He ends the message, letting his phone drop into his lap as he chokes back a sob. 

Everything is fine, Ethan's fine, there's no need to get this worked up, he tries to tell himself. Eyes still brimming with unshed tears. It's all going to be alright, he chants, his hand going up to where Ethan was once gripping, fingers tightening in a phantom hold. He let's himself lie back down, anxiety keeping him from relaxing any further than the tense position he's in. 

He doesn't know how long he's been staring at the ceiling for, it feels any where between a few minutes to a few hours. A glance at the clock could tell him, but he feels so depleted of any energy that the thought of just turning his head is too much. A sudden knock at his front door has his heart going into overdrive, adrenaline rushing through him, giving him a breath of energy as he heaves himself up from his bed, and onto his floor. 

He stumbles, feet barely cooperating with him long enough to get down his stairs and to his front door. He opens it, eyes wild and hair a complete mess. He longs to see Ethan's face, but to his disappointment he's met with another man's face, one he doesn't recognize.

He glances the man over, knees almost buckling as he realizes the man standing before him is a police officer. He grabs onto the handle of the door, allows himself to press a little more firmly into it's sturdy weight. 

"Mark Fishbach?" The man proceeds to ask, tone soft and careful, "May we come in?" 

We? Mark's heart begins to beat faster, hope festering behind it. He takes a frantic glance to the right where his brain barely registers another body standing there. He finds feminine features, a warm, hesitant smile. 

His heart begins to stomp out any hope that was once blooming beautifully in his ribcage. Idly, he realizes how numb his extremities feel as he opens the door wider to let them both in. His ringing ears make out a quiet thank you followed by both entering people. 

"Could we go find a seat?" It's the woman's turn to speak, voice gentle, soothing as she stands patiently beside him. Her gaze is soft and sad when she directs it his way, but an ever present comforting smile stays plastered to her lips. It's just the bit aggravating. His brain is foggy, body going into auto pilot as he wordlessly leads them to his couch. 

He feels himself sit, watches as the officer takes a seat on the chair adjacent to the couch, feels the weight of the woman dip the seat cushion next to him. 

"My name's Aiden, I'm a police officer for Los Angeles County, this," he pauses, looks almost unsure as he gestures to the woman, almost as if he doesn't know the next course of action. The woman beside him introduces herself, realizing quickly that the officer seems to be floundering, Mark offhandedly thinks the same. 

"I'm Elizabeth, and I'm-" she pauses, glancing at Aiden, "We're here to inform you about some bad news." She speaks soft and slow, not letting her eyes waver from Marks. 

"I'm a coroner," she let's on slowly, cautiously, "and I," she pauses, face falling, "I'm sorry to say, Ethan was in a fatal car accident. He- He died, on impact." 

Mark feels his whole world tip, his tongue feels like it's made out of sand paper, his heart nothing more than a heavy weight in his chest. There's a tightening sensation starting in his chest, vaguely, he remembers he has to breathe. 

He let's out a scream. 

He screams until his throat is completely raw, some time amongst his screaming he's some how ended up on his knees, the hardwood floor cold against his protesting knees. He feels a placating hand resting on his shoulder, small fingers pressing a comforting weight where they rest. The hand feels so detached, almost as if they're gripping someone else's body. This doesn't feel real, he thinks, the pain of his throat feeling nothing more than a pinch despite the taste of blood in his mouth. 

This _can't_ be real. 

He startles awake, dripping in a cold sweat. The sheets are completely soaked, a mixture of salt resides on his face, tears and sweat mix together stinging his eyes. He feels a stirring next to him, a warm hand reaching out and padding in his direction. He finds sleepy, half opened hazel eyes searching worriedly for him. 

"Mark," he slurs, "baby, what's wrong?" It comes out as a hushed mumble of words, the hiccuping sob Mark answers with has Ethan shooting upright, sitting so he can hover over Mark's resting form. The love and worry etched into Ethan's features make Mark sob harder, bringing his hands up to cover his face. He's distraught, frantic as he rolls over onto Ethan's lap, still covering his face. He let's himself wail pitifully in Ethan's lap as he feels the soothing scratch of nails against his scalp. He hears a quiet humming, that matches the way the fingers work against his head. He knows he's a mess, disgustingly sweaty, but the gentleness Ethan uses despite all of that only adds to his never-ending tears. 

Finally, he feels himself start to settle, full blown sobs turning into hiccuped breaths, as he relaxes more peacefully against Ethan. Ethan's humming continues, it's a song he vaguely recognizes. Mark lifts his head, his vision slightly distorted by the stubborn tears still clinging to his eyes. 

He gives Ethan a watery, tired smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes. Ethan's face is tear stricken as well, Mark almost laughs at that, he always had a tendency to cry whenever Mark did. He claimed seeing Mark so upset brought him to tears himself, hurting for him, wishing he could soothe his pain. He presses up on to his elbows before adjusting himself into a sitting position. 

"I love you so much," he whispers, voice rough from how hard he was crying. His response is a salty kiss, soft and simple, lips pressed lovingly against one another. When they break apart Ethan's smile is full of love and adoration.

"I love you too," his voice is nothing more than a whisper, but the words ring louder in his ears than any sound ever could. It quiets his aching heart. 

His hand seeks out Ethan's, fingers lacing lazily with one another, "What time is it?" There's a guilt creeping up on him for waking Ethan up, it must be horribly early.

He sees a quick flash of panic wash over Ethan's features before they return to their usual playfulness; something in his gut twists. "It doesn't matter, why don't we just lay back down?" 

Mark hesitates, he knows there's an analogue clock just behind him. There was something in Ethan's eyes, just a moment of bright panic behind them that leaves him unsettled. Why couldn't he know the time? His gut screams for him to look at the clock, but knows Ethan will be vigelent of he turns around. He takes a steading breath, before giving Ethan the calmest smile he can muster, "Alright, but I'm gonna be the little spoon," before Ethan can say anything he twists his body, plopping uncermoniously onto the bed. He feels more than hears the hesitant exhale Ethan let's out, warm breath ghosting the back of his neck. 

"Anything to make you feel better," it's pressed into the back of his neck, lips ghosting over the exposed skin there. A shiver runs down his spine. His eyes are tempted to close as Ethan begins to hum once more, a soft tune, something about it is, haunting him, a nagging itch in the back of his mind. He knows this song, it's tune almost sad in nature.

He feels a hand caressing his head, careful fingers start massaging the back of his scalp. The other unoccupied hand circles itself around his waist, squeezing oh so delicately around him. He feels safe, warm, and most importantly, loved. He turns his head, looking to see Ethan propped up on the elbow of the hand that's currently busy working magic in his hair. He sees Ethan raise a brow, smile tugging at his lips, the never ending soothing hum of that song echoing in his ears. 

He turns back, letting his head rest comfortably against his pillow, his eyes begging to close. He doesn't let them rest just yet, the steady unease growing in his stomach forcing them to remain open. He let's them wander to the clock, the sides of his mouth ticking up with fond amusement. He remembers Ethan's playful disgust at the knowledge that the clock by his bedside wasn't digital. 

He stares at the hands of the clock, scrunching his brow in confusion as the second hand refuses to move an inch. A wave of nausea washes over him, leaving him feeling dizzy. His head is sent reeling as his brain supplies a heart wrenching fact. 

Most people can't tell time when they're dreaming.

The humming behind him becomes more persistent, the fingers grazing in his hair some how become lighter in touch. There's a numbness starting to settle into his body, as he pieces together all the information presented to him. 

"I told you not to look at the clock, silly," Ethan whispers, voice feather light in the nearly suffocating silence. Mark closes his eyes, wishes he could will himself to forget everything blaring at him that this is just a dream. 

"You're not real," it's a soft whisper from a broken man. His hand reaches down to the one wrapped around him, touching him, feeling the softness of his skin. "I'm just dreaming," he feels sick.

"This is real," he let's out a breathy laugh, "real enough at least. You have memories of me, you remember who I was, and that's real." He feels the press of lips to the corner of his jaw, "I wanted you to just fall back asleep, remember me like this, for just a little while longer."

Mark feels a bitter laugh bubble up the back of his throat, "I'm such a prideful prick, I fought against my own brain just to prove a point." He feels the tale tell signs of tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "For what? Heartache?"

The warmth against his body presses impossibly closer, "You're a good man, Mark, I just want you to remember that. You have so much talent, don't squander it wasting away in bed." Another kiss is placed just below the last, "Remember that I love you, I will always love you." 

Mark let's out one good watery laugh, a short gust of air, "Apparently I'm also a narcissistic bastard," he feels his heart being chipped away at, word by word.

"I'm personally offended on the real Ethan's behalf," he let's Ethan's fingers tangle with his own, "You know how much Ethan loved you, that's why I'm here. That's why I'm telling you this." The fingers in his hair pause, poking slightly at the top of his head, "No one else can get through that thick skull of yours, other then," he pauses, laughter hidden in the words following, "well me!"

Mark finds himself unable to answer, heart stuck in his throat. He finally let's the tears spill over, let's them cascade down his cheeks. "I don't want to wake up, not if you're not there," he feels raw, like every nerve endings been exposed to open air. 

"You'll be okay, baby, you gotta keep going for me. You have to do all the things we wanted to do, okay?" 

He nods, not trusting his voice, he's never felt pain like this in his life, it's pure agony knowing any moment now he'll wake and Ethan won't be there. The love of his life is gone, and he's not coming back. The humming is back, full force, trying to soothe his crumbling mind back into a restful sleep.

_Oh._

_Yesterday._ That's the song, his mind wanders, bits and pieces of the lyrics matching up to the soft hum.

**_Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say_ **

Another sob is ripped painfully from his chest, lyrics filling his mind with even more painful thoughts. The fingers in his hair trying to rake all the worries from his head.

His mind wanders, perhaps if he was just more persistent with having Ethan stay the night, he would be alright. Maybe, if he just kept him for a little longer he would have avoided that drunk driver. 

**_I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday,_ **

If only he would have said something different, did something different. Maybe he wouldn't be waking up alone. 

**_Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play_ **

He wakes to the feeling of phantom fingers running through his hair, his tear streaked face pressed into Ethan's pillow. 

**_Now I need a place to hide away._ **

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry, i love my baby ethan, but i'm honestly such a sucker for angst and shit. i want to try my hand at writing happier things, so leave suggestions below, or just tell me what you thought of this. 
> 
> comments are always appreciated and welcomed.


End file.
